“Trouble finds you even when you’re sitting at home.”
Similar situations frequently occur in international politics and diplomacy, where “truth” is often determined by political necessity.
Take the current situation, for instance. Due to economic pressures, the British government is forced to support the Prussian government. However, their efforts alone are insufficient. They need to bring the French on board.
In this context, Austria naturally becomes the scapegoat. From a strategic perspective, the Austrian government does have the motive, making it nearly impossible to clear their name.
But that doesn’t really matter. On the issue of the Russo-Prussian War, Britain and Austria are already on opposing sides. When you’re already burdened with many debts, adding another doesn’t change much.
Franz might not care, but Alexander II is certainly troubled. With Britain’s involvement, much of Russia’s diplomatic efforts are rendered futile.
There’s no helping it. Diplomacy has never been their strong suit. One look at the Russian government’s international reputation is enough to see how amateurish their diplomacy is.
The achievements they’ve managed so far are largely because their opponents are equally inexperienced in diplomacy. Both sides are floundering like novices, making it a fairly even match.
It’s not that Prussia and Russia lack capable diplomats. When it comes to the abilities of frontline diplomats, even if there are differences, they wouldn’t be significant overall. The real problem lies with the decision-makers.
In international diplomacy, while skilled diplomats are crucial, what matters most are the decisions made by those at the top. They are the ones who ultimately steer a country’s foreign policy.Unfortunately, neither Prussia nor Russia has decision-makers adept at diplomacy. No matter how hard the officials below work, it’s all in vain.
In the original timeline, the German Empire is a prime example of how leadership impacts diplomacy. During Bismarck’s tenure, Germany’s diplomatic efforts reached their peak, but after his departure, it all fell apart.
After the Battle of Smolensk, the international community largely favored the Russians, and the Russian government seized the opportunity to intensify its diplomatic overtures toward the Nordic Federation.
Offering help during hard times is difficult, but joining in during success is easy. Many within the Nordic Federation were tempted, particularly the Danes, who were eager to avenge their loss in the Second Schleswig War.
Strategically, if the Nordic Federation had struck the Prussian-Polish Federation at this moment, the war would have been over, no matter how brilliant Moltke’s plans might have been.
Unfortunately, the Russian government acted too slowly. Whether it was due to disputes over benefits or other reasons, negotiations dragged on without resolution.
With Britain’s intervention, the Nordic Federation, which had been ready to capitalize on Russia’s success, wavered again. Any hope of forming an alliance faded, and the Russians missed their best chance to win the war.
However, this wasn’t Alexander II’s biggest headache. The real issue was the rise of domestic optimism following the victory at the Battle of Smolensk.
Many individuals who were incompetent at everything else suddenly became “military experts,” offering unsolicited advice on the frontlines.
Suggestions like “a direct march on Warsaw” or “a surprise attack on Berlin” became commonplace. These tactics sounded promising and were simple solutions to secure victory in the war. ʀäΝổВƐȘ
While such armchair strategists could usually be ignored as mere noise, the situation became more concerning when these people wielded social influence.
In Russia’s case, these armchair strategists not only had social influence but also held positions of power within the government. When these individuals started “spouting off,” Alexander II found it frustrating. For the commanders at the frontlines, the pressure was even worse.
…
In July, Saint Petersburg was neither gripped by winter’s cold nor summer’s heat. With temperatures hovering in the teens (Celsius), it was the most pleasant time of the year.
In this idyllic season came the exhilarating news of the “Victory at Smolensk,” and the entire city was filled with the euphoria of triumph.
Marshal Ivanov, the leading architect of this campaign’s success, quietly returned from the frontlines to attend a military conference.
Faced with the praise of his colleagues, Ivanov merely smiled and let it pass. No one knew better than he did how exaggerated the so-called victory at Smolensk truly was.
The Prussian army’s main forces were still intact, and it was far too early to declare “victory.” If not for the political necessity, Marshal Ivanov wouldn’t have hesitated to reveal the truth and expose the cunning strategy of their enemy.
But in politics, “ifs” don’t exist. The Russian government needed a victory, and the “Victory at Smolensk” came at just the right time. Whether it was real or embellished, it had to be treated as genuine.
Relatively speaking, it wasn’t outright fabrication, more like an artistic embellishment. After all, the captured prisoners were still a testament to the campaign’s achievements.
That said, as a true soldier, Ivanov found nothing worth boasting about in this. In fact, he even suspected the enemy had deliberately sent them this flood of cannon fodder because they couldn’t afford to feed them, thereby saddling Russia with an increased logistical burden.
…
The Winter Palace
Alexander II smiled and said, “Marshal, tell us about the situation at the front!”
The Russian Empire had more than one marshal, but the only one present here and treated with such deference by Alexander II was Ivanov.
For any soldier, the greatest source of confidence is always their record of victories. Regardless of how inflated the achievements may be, a win is still a win, and as a victor, Ivanov had earned the respect he was getting.
Perhaps Ivanov wasn’t the most brilliant military strategist, but he possessed a rare quality: every campaign he commanded had been a success.
Looking through his record, one would see a consistent performer, someone who favored steady and methodical approaches and opposed any form of military gamble.
In addition, he always seemed to have good fortune, frequently facing weaker opponents.
During the First Russo-Prussian War, he first led troops against the Poles, then was assigned to defend Constantinople and block the Ottomans.
His opponents were always soft targets, and with Ivanov’s conservative command style, it was almost impossible for the Russian army to lose.
Amidst widespread defeats for the Russian military, Ivanov stood out by securing victories.
Then came the Second Near East War, where the Russian government joined forces with Austria to crush the Ottomans. It was a straightforward opportunity to rack up accolades.
When the Second Russo-Prussian War broke out, Alexander II, seeking stability, immediately appointed the “distinguished and lucky” Marshal Ivanov.
In hindsight, this decision proved to be very wise. Over the past ten months of war, while the Russian army hadn’t gained significant advantages, it also hadn’t suffered any major losses.
As the war of attrition dragged on, it became evident that the Russian army was gradually gaining strategic momentum.
The only downside was the relatively high casualties, but in the face of victory, this seemed like a minor issue. Compared to the First Russo-Prussian War, the exchange ratio achieved by the Russian forces this time was much more favorable.
Ivanov picked up a pointer and tapped on the map as he spoke, “After the Battle of Smolensk, the Prussian main forces retreated all the way back, seemingly preparing to abandon Poland.
However, that’s only on the surface. The Battle of Smolensk did not significantly damage the Prussian main forces. They still have enough strength for another decisive battle and have no reason to retreat so quickly, let alone give up Warsaw, their eastern gateway.
I’ve studied their troop movements and they’re redistributing to the flanks. If we advance into Warsaw, they can immediately surround and attack us.
Of course, it’s not that we fear a decisive battle with them, but there’s no need for us to fight in Warsaw. If a decisive battle is to happen, it should be on terrain of our choosing.”
Clearly, Ivanov was politically astute and avoided saying what shouldn’t be said outright.
Everyone present was sharp enough to read between the lines. Even without Ivanov explicitly stating it, they all understood that the Polish people were not welcoming of the “Tsar.” Warsaw, being the center of anti-Russian sentiment, offered no public support for a battle there.
However, even smart people can do foolish things, as their decisions are often dictated not by their brains but by the positions they hold.
Finance Minister Kristanval questioned, “Marshal, a decisive battle in Warsaw may not be the best choice, but it is the most suitable for us.
Since the war began, we have spent nearly 1.87 billion rubles, with monthly expenditures averaging nearly 200 million rubles.
This means that our annual revenue isn’t even enough to cover three months of war expenses.
Every day this war continues, we incur astronomical military costs. Ending the war as soon as possible is our best option.”
The adage “cannons fire and gold flows like water” rings true. The Russian government has mobilized over a million troops, resulting in daily military expenditures that are nothing short of astronomical.
Self-financing is out of the question, as Russia’s finances have never been robust. To sustain this war, the Russian government has already accrued massive foreign debts.
If the war drags on, it won’t be long before the government’s finances are completely depleted. At that point, the Ministry of Finance will be called upon to solve the crisis. Kristanval, being a smart man, fully understood that raising funds for the government was already a Herculean task.
If the war fails not due to defeats on the battlefield but because of financial collapse, the Finance Ministry will undoubtedly bear the blame. As the Minister of Finance, he would be the first to be sacrificed, potentially even facing execution to appease public outrage.
Moreover, borrowed money must eventually be repaid. This time, the loans were secured against land. If the treasury is entirely drained and unable to service the debt, the government will have no choice but to cede territory as collateral.
If such a situation arises, the Ministry of Finance will ultimately take the blame once again. As its minister, Kristanval had every reason to be anxious.
To him, this war was like the Sword of Damocles hanging precariously overhead, ready to fall at any moment and bring about his demise.
It wasn’t just the Ministry of Finance that was eager to end the war, many interest groups within the Russian government also wanted the conflict to conclude as soon as possible.
The war was wreaking havoc on the economy, with many industries unable to function normally, cutting off the financial lifelines of numerous stakeholders.
Marshal Ivanov shook his head and said, “Finance Minister, you’re oversimplifying the matter. The difficulties of engaging in a decisive battle in the Warsaw region are far greater than you imagine.
If we pursue a strategy of swift victory and take unnecessary risks, we would be falling into the enemy’s trap.
Should an unforeseen incident occur, causing heavy losses to our forces, who will take responsibility?”
Some things could not be explained outright, given the constraints of political correctness. In this context, Marshal Ivanov could only stand firm in his opposition.
Finance Minister Kristanval retorted with a cold smile, “Aren’t battlefield matters the military’s responsibility? Or are you suggesting that we in the Ministry of Finance should take charge instead? Perhaps we should simply start directing the war ourselves!”
Many wanted a quick resolution to the war, and even Alexander II was among them. However, no one openly voiced this desire, mainly out of fear that pressuring the military to engage prematurely in a decisive battle might lead to failure, and no one wanted to bear that responsibility.
Kristanval had no choice. The finances of the Russian government were in terrible shape, and the cost of the war was astronomical.
The funds the Ministry of Finance had managed to gather could sustain the war for at most another year. But could the war really be concluded within a year?
If he hadn’t lived through the previous Russo-Prussian War, Kristanval might have confidently said it could. However, having experienced it firsthand, he could no longer afford to be so optimistic.
As someone inexperienced in military matters, Kristanval didn’t see why changing the location of the decisive battle was such a big deal. At worst, it might lead to higher casualties, but as far as he was concerned, those cannon fodders weren’t valuable. Russia could afford the losses.
Marshal Ivanov sarcastically remarked, “That’s quite a suggestion. If Marquis Kristanval is so confident, then perhaps I should step aside and let you take over!”
By this point, Ivanov was fully aware that he could not back down. Taking a step back would not lead to boundless possibilities, but rather plunging into an abyss.
Although directly confronting the issue wasn’t the most diplomatic approach and risked offending many, Ivanov felt that was still far safer than the risks associated with an early decisive battle.
This was wartime, the era where the military held the highest authority. With his illustrious record of victories, Ivanov knew no one could touch him.
As the argument escalated, Alexander II raised his hand to signal for silence and then said, “Enough. Let’s drop this matter. Marshal, tell us about your battle plan instead.”
Without a doubt, this brief clash ended with Marshal Ivanov’s firm stance emerging victorious.
Faced with a financial crisis and the risk of war failure, Alexander II ultimately chose to confront the financial crisis. The risk of losing the war was something he absolutely could not afford.
As long as they won the war, the financial crisis could always be resolved. If worse came to worst, they could simply default on debts again. After all, they’d done it before. Once you’ve done it a second time, it becomes routine.
The only troublesome aspect was the territories pledged as collateral, but even that was manageable. At worst, they could compensate for the loss by seizing land from the enemy. The Austrian government wasn’t opposed to territorial exchanges.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Marshal Ivanov replied solemnly then continued, “The enemy has set traps in Warsaw, waiting for us to fall into them.
To ensure the safety of our forces, we’ve decided to first capture Lithuanian and flank the enemy in the Baltic region from behind, thus neutralizing the military threat to St. Petersburg.”
Hearing this, many officials nodded in satisfaction. The Prussian army had already advanced into Estonia, alarmingly close to St. Petersburg.
This had left government officials sleepless, fearing that the enemy could arrive at their gates at any moment. Were it not for Alexander II’s firm stance, the Russian government might already have relocated to Moscow.
No one opposed prioritizing the defense of St. Petersburg, not even Alexander II. After all, no one could ever complain about being too safe.
After a brief pause, Marshal Ivanov added, “Once the Lithuanian region is reclaimed, the dynamics on the battlefield will shift. Considering logistical pressures, the command plans to launch a full-scale offensive on the southern front.
We’ll deploy troops along the Prussian-Austrian border to facilitate easier resupply from Austria. After that, we’ll proceed steadily and methodically, leveraging our superior manpower to crush the enemy through sheer force.”
One word sums it up: “stability.” According to Ivanov’s military strategy, the Russian army was unlikely to achieve a world-shaking victory, but it was equally unlikely to suffer a catastrophic defeat.
Of course, the aftermath would be severe, and the cost would be significant. While defeating the enemy, the Russian Empire would also be gravely weakened.
Alexander II asked with concern, “Is there any way to reduce our losses? If we keep fighting like this, even if we win, the price will be devastating.”
After a moment of thought, Ivanov pointed toward the map in the direction of the Nordic Federation and said, “The simplest way is to bring the Nordic Federation into the war.
We’ve already tied down the enemy’s main forces. If they launch an assault on Berlin, the war could end in a month.
Alternatively, Austria and the German Federal Empire could join the fight. The enemy’s rear is highly vulnerable and even just 50,000 troops could take Berlin.”
This was an awkward proposal. The Russian government’s efforts to woo the Nordic Federation had been thwarted by Britain’s interference.
As for Austria and the German Federal Empire, they shouldn’t even think about it. No matter what incentives they offered, it wouldn’t work.
Setting aside the complexities of international relations, nationalist factions wouldn’t allow it.
Austria’s ambitions to unify the German region depended on the support of nationalists, and the Austrian government would not go against public opinion.
The German Federal Empire was in an even worse position. With its multitude of constituent states, any rash actions by the central government could immediately spark independence movements.
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